


Into Slumber

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd done this often enough — Stiles falling asleep in the middle of some task, leaving Derek to strip him down — that Derek knew Stiles would have no problem with Derek doing exactly what he wanted.  They'd talked about it, discussed it at length with Derek expressing his reluctance until he'd finally notice just how arousing Stiles found the thought of Derek touching him in his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Slumber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leasspell Dæl (leasspell_dael)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leasspell_dael/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 9: Gift for leasspell-dael

Derek stood in the doorway, a small smile fighting to spread across his lips as he took in the scene before him. Papers were scattered everywhere, books open and piled haphazardly across other open books. There was even a scroll winding itself up around Stiles’ arm, which was flung to the side as he slept. His face was mashed against his keyboard, chin hitting the spacebar on repeat as his steady breathing made a sticky note flutter with every exhale. 

Derek ran his gaze over the papers and books, considering whether to try straightening the mess. In the end, he decided against it because there was no telling if Stiles had made a breakthrough and the last thing Derek needed was a lecture on the subject. Again. 

So instead, he just curled his arms around Stiles’ sleeping form and lifted him straight up out of the computer chair, shifting him around so his knees didn’t bang against the desk and wake him up. A handful of steps brought Derek to the bed, where he stretched Stiles out as comfortably as was possible. 

A soft moan made him look up from where he was gently trying to remove Stiles’ shoes to see Stiles’ eyes open, looking down at him with a hazy lack of focus that probably meant he’d never remember this in the morning. Crawling up the bed, Derek braced himself over Stiles and murmured, “Shh, go back to sleep.” 

Stiles reached up, his wide lips parting on a little exhale of Derek’s name as he trailed his fingers over Derek’s cheek before his eyes fluttered shut again and his heartbeat rang slow and steady with sleep. 

But not before he nearly destroyed Derek with that look, that touch. The pure reverence in the way he’d whispered Derek’s name cut through him, made something in his chest cramp with emotion. The feathery light touch against his skin stole his breath, but it was the pure, liquid trust in Stiles’ eyes that made Derek lower his forehead to the bed and just _breathe_ for a minute. 

Breathe through the instinctual need to wake Stiles up, to shake him and scream at him to not do something so foolish. Breathe through the old grief and pain that told him he didn’t deserve Stiles’ trust, didn’t deserve to have this beautiful, sarcastic, intelligent man. Breathe through the fear that one day he’d wake up and this would be gone. 

That he would be the one to destroy it. 

When he’d recovered himself enough to not hurt Stiles with too desperate touches, Derek went back to removing Stiles’ shoes, then his socks. He ran his hands over Stiles’ feet, testing the long, skinny toes to see if Stiles needed a blanket, but they were warm enough for him to move on. Stiles’ jeans were more of a struggle to remove, but Derek was patient, and smart enough to pull from the ankle after they were loose enough to slip off his hips. 

And then Derek sat back between Stiles’ feet and looked his fill. He enjoyed Stiles like this, soft and loose in slumber, his cheeks pink and face slack, not pulled tight with stress or fear. He liked the way Stiles’ long, leanly powerful legs disappeared into the loose fit of his ridiculous boxers. He loved the way the soft cotton of Stiles’ t-shirt stretched across Stiles’ wide shoulders but was so loose at his thin waist to twist around his torso, showing off a bit of belly. 

Stiles’ entire body was open, still and relaxed in ways he never was while awake. It was another expression of his complete faith in Derek that he was like this, because if anyone else touched him in his sleep, Stiles startled. Each time he was confronted with the truth of Stiles’ absolute trust, the knowledge was enough to break Derek apart and put him back together a little more whole. 

A little more worthy. 

Derek sighed at his heavy thoughts, pushing them away as he let his eyes wander again, sliding covetously up the length of Stiles’ legs. The slit in Stiles’ boxers was pulled open, the material tight across his hips from Derek’s struggle with the thick denim of his jeans, showing just the tip of his dick curled up soft and sleepy just like the man it was attached to. Derek stared, licking his lips as his hands skirted restlessly up over Stiles’ shins, playing with the thick hair. He wanted to taste. He wanted to burrow into that slit and drag Stiles’ soft cock into his mouth. He wanted to hold it in the warmth of his mouth and just suckle until it was so hard he choked on it. 

And the amazing thing was… he could. They’d done this often enough – Stiles falling asleep in the middle of some task, leaving Derek to strip him down – that Derek knew Stiles would have no problem with Derek doing exactly what he wanted. They’d talked about it, discussed it at length with Derek expressing his reluctance until he’d finally notice just how arousing Stiles found the thought of Derek touching him in his sleep. The way Stiles’ eyes went bright with passion could convince Derek to do anything. 

It was a little sad how easily swayed he was by that particular look. 

Stiles sighed in his sleep, spreading his legs a little, almost _inviting_ Derek to crawl between them though there was no question that he was still deeply asleep. Moving a little too fast, Derek stripped off his own clothes before easing onto the bed. He lay down on his side, one hand curled up under his cheek and he pressed his toes to the side of Stiles’ foot and edged closer and closer until they were touching all down his body. 

Gently, so gently, he eased Stiles’ arm up and over his head, snuggling closer before pulling it around himself. Much as Stiles liked to tease him for it, he loved being wrapped up in Stiles. It surrounded him in Stiles’ scent, in the natural warmth that radiated from him. It grounded Derek and kept him from falling too deeply into his own head. 

With a small, content noise, he traced his fingers over the rucked-up cloth of Stiles’ t-shirt, feeling the lines of muscle and bone under it. He skimmed them down and edged up under Stiles’ shirt, rubbed his fingertips back and forth through the coarse hair of Stiles’ treasure trail until his skin felt almost numb. 

Derek rolled his head further onto Stiles’ shoulder then, giving him the necessary angle to see down Stiles’ body. To see that curious little gape in the cloth of his boxers and the head of Stiles’ dick inside. So soft, he just wanted to _pet_ it… so he did. Derek traced one blunt finger over the loose skin, marveling at how silky it was like this, almost fluffy. 

Lost in his own perusal of Stiles’ dick, Derek was almost shocked to find himself moving, slithering down Stiles’ body to prop his head on Stiles’ hip, breathing in the sleepy musk of Stiles’ scent where it gathered so thick down here. He kept petting Stiles’ dick, circled his fingers around it and played with the loose skin. 

When it twitched, he finally moved, not wanting to lose this opportunity to feel it soft and lax inside his mouth. A soft hum of satisfaction rose up his throat when he opened his mouth over Stiles’ dick, using his lips and tongue to ease it inside. He just held it there for a moment, curling the flat of his tongue around it and suckling until Stiles shifted restlessly in his sleep, his breath a little harder than it had been. 

Derek looked up, unable to hold back the tiny grin that stretched his lips wider than Stiles’ still mostly-soft cock. Stiles’ cheeks were flushed, his eyes moving rapidly behind their lids, like he was having a very good dream. Derek sucked, tonguing at Stiles’ slit, and felt his own stomach tremble with arousal when a soft, sleepy moan split the air. 

Stiles’ dick hardened slowly, in sluggish increments, allowing Derek the freedom to taste and play to his heart’s content. He bobbed and licked and sucked, used his fingers when Stiles grew too hard for his full length to fit in Derek’s mouth. And then Stiles bent his leg, mumbling incoherently as he pressed his heel lazily into the mattress, thrusting his hips toward Derek’s face. 

Derek pulled off with a gasp, hands gripping Stiles’ thighs and kneading at the muscle as he watched Stiles’ cock fall back against his hip, the tip smacking wetly. And then he ducked down again and dragged his pursed lips up the length of it before licking and slurping just under the head. 

Stiles began to twist under him, mumbling in his sleep, forcing Derek to shift his grip on his hips and hold him down. And then he had to drop one hand down to stroke himself because Stiles’ mumbles were _his name_ , and that was– 

Derek had to press his forehead against Stiles’ thigh to catch his breath. And then it didn’t help anyway, because Stiles was still speaking, little random phrases filled with Derek’s name, and that was enough to spur him back into action. To make him take Stiles down his throat until he couldn’t _breathe_ , just taste. 

The blow job turned sloppy, more spit than skill, and his own grip on his dick was meant to get him off. He wanted to come, wanted to deal with the orgasm trying to compete for his attention so he could go back to worshiping Stiles’ body while he had the time and quiet to do so. 

But Stiles twisted that plan right around by stiffening in Derek’s grip and coming down his throat in long, choking bursts. When Stiles’ come hit Derek’s tongue, when he heard the catch-break-release of Stiles’ breath and the sudden rush of his heartbeat that said his orgasm had shocked him awake, Derek smothered his whimper on Stiles’ still-hard cock and came all over the bed near Stiles feet. 

Gasping and shaking with the force of his own release, Stiles buried shaky fingers in Derek’s hair and tugged, still mumbling incoherently. Derek went easily, wiping his fingers on the sheet before dragging them along Stiles’ jaw and pressing soft kisses to his mouth. 

“Derek,” Stiles sighed at him between kisses, eyes blinking languidly like he was a few moments from slipping back into sleep. But before he did, he wrapped his arms around Derek and pulled until they were tucked in tight together, pressed close from tip to toe. Stiles’ lips softened against his and then slid away, glancing along Derek’s cheek before coming to a rest behind his ear, soft breaths puffing down the back of his neck. “Sleep now,” he murmured. 

Derek nodded, content and sated, and followed Stiles into slumber. 


End file.
